"I cannot decide." The phrase echoed in my mind as I took the long walk towards the end of the book-lined hallway. My hands were shaking and sweat was beginning to bead on my forehead. I wanted to run. I wanted to find the others and tell them the truth. I wanted to tell them that what we were trying to accomplish was futile. Paranoid thoughts raced through my mind fuelled by my self-doubt and my resistance to believe. How could I have known? Faith is not a skill or ability. It cannot be learnt. I drew a slow and deliberate breath through my nose, held it in, and then exhaled through parched lips. I was stalling. I slowed my pace as I approached the door. They say all roads lead to Rome; My Rome lay on the other side of this solid oak door. Like so many doors before it, I knew it would not be locked. Was I ready? Was I prepared to see where all my roads... all of our roads had lead us?